


We're Hollow Like the Bottles That We Drain

by jbird181



Series: I Wanna Get Better [1]
Category: Saturday Night Live, Saturday Night Live RPF, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Established Relationship, Glitter, M/M, Perpetual Glitter, Seth is a Supportive Boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbird181/pseuds/jbird181
Summary: It’s not unusual for Stefon to call Seth in the wee hours of the morning, but he’s usually begging Seth to come out to whatever club he’s checking out that night. He’s not usually crying.





	We're Hollow Like the Bottles That We Drain

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Lorde’s [400 Lux](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=cWGQduke0tc&feature=youtu.be).

Seth is zoning out watching the blur of the tunnel walls pass by the subway windows when his phone vibrates in his pocket. “Stefon?”

“Hi, Seth.”

Seth waits, but Stefon doesn’t say anything else. All he hears is shaky breathing on the other end. Seth expected some thumping noise passing as music, at least. “Are you still at that club?”

“YeeHAW. Seth, it has everything: people dressed like bunnies, bunnies dressed like people, the Kool-Aid Man but empty, Humpty Dumpty, monkey wrenches—”

“Something tells me those aren’t what I think they are.”

“They’re babies dressed as monkeys, Seth Meyers, that wrench things out of your hands.”

“Of course.”

“But I’m not really in YeeHAW anymore, I guess. I’m outside it,” Stefon says more quietly. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Are you okay?”

Stefon laughs, high and sharp.

“Do you want me to come get you?” Seth offers, schooling his voice to stay as natural and unworried as possible.

“Oh no, you don’t have to. I’m fine,” Stefon says hastily, stretching out _fine_ in a way that is not at all reassuring.

“I don’t mind. I’m on the subway now, but I’ll be there soon. Stay put, okay?”

Stefon hesitates, and Seth would worry he’d hung up if he couldn’t hear Stefon’s ragged breathing. “Okay. Stay on the phone with me?”

“Of course.”

“How was work?” Stefon asks after a moment. Seth launches into a breakdown of tonight’s show while he pulls up the address Stefon had given him for the club earlier. That’s their agreement: whenever Stefon goes to a club, he tells Seth where he’s going, and he gives him a real address, because Seth argued that “upper, upper Uptown” was not good enough. He doesn’t want to control Stefon, and he doesn’t want to change him, but he does worry, and a drunk Stefon can’t always be counted on to be coherent if something does come up.

Seth gets off at the next stop and crosses the street to go back the other way. It’s not long before he’s heading closer to Stefon, but each passing minute feels like an eternity.

“I’m on 97th street now,” Seth says, searching for Stefon. More often than not, the clubs Stefon attends are tucked away in corners or above delis or behind office buildings, so he’s not overwhelmingly confident in his ability to find YeeHAW without assistance.

It turns out he doesn’t have to: Stefon is sitting on the steps of a decrepit CVS with colorful light shining through the windows, like an urban decay version of stained glass windows. His lanky body is folded up, one arm wrapped around his knees, the other holding his phone to his ear, eyes scanning the area warily until they meet Seth’s.

“Fancy meeting you here, Seth Meyers,” he chokes out, and Seth hears it as he says it, then again as a disorienting echo in his right ear. He hangs up the phone and sits down next to Stefon. Stefon’s shaking slightly, so Seth takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over his hunched shoulders.

“Hey, buddy, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Stefon shakes his head and whispers, “Not tonight.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s barely audible.

“Why? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m…I’m such a bad boyfriend. Are you mad?”

“What? No, I’m not mad, Stefon.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Stefon babbles. “You didn’t have to, it’s so late, I’m a bad boyfriend. You should find someone… normal, someone better—”

“Stefon, I love _you_ —”

“Why?”

That’s not something Seth has been able to explain to himself, let alone to the man he has these unexplainable feelings for. “I just do. Let’s get you home, okay?”

Stefon lets Seth lead him back to subway and slumps into Seth’s side, obviously exhausted. Seth wraps his arm around him as the car jostles along, rests his head on top of Stefon’s. Loving Stefon was never a choice, but he doesn’t regret any of it. Sure, sometimes Stefon frustrates him and they have their issues to work out, but that’s normal. He loves Stefon because… _because_ … he just does.

Stefon had finally achieved a dozing sleep when they arrive at their stop and it feels wrong to wake him up, but Seth doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to get Stefon off the subway before morning. He still has to mostly carry him as they stumble into their apartment, where he directs him to the bed. Stefon curls up on his side on top of the covers and Seth sighs.

“I’ll be right back.”

Stefon makes an agreeable noise.

Seth returns with a glass of water and a makeup wipe and nudges Stefon until he sits up. “Drink this.” As Stefon drinks, Stefon wipes the smeared concealer, eyeshadow, and eyeliner off his face, being as gentle as possible.

The eyeliner is particularly hard to remove; as he scrubs at it, Stefon clarifies, “It’s waterproof.” There’s still glitter all over Stefon, but there’s perpetually glitter on Stefon, so Seth leaves it be. It looks good on him anyway.

“Thank you,” Stefon says when Seth comes back from throwing out the wipe. Seth’s suit jacket has been repurposed as a makeshift blanket even though Stefon is sitting on a perfectly good comforter.

“Don’t worry about it.” Stefon snorts, and Seth frowns. “I mean it.”

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Yes, Stefon. Did I do something to make you think that I’m mad?” Stefon is, as always, an enigma.

“No.” He lies down facing away from Seth, clearly done with this line of conversation, so Seth files away his questions to join the ever-growing list for later.

Seth changes into shorts  and a t-shirt and lies on his back next to Stefon, who has fallen asleep. He watches the steady rise and fall of his chest. It’s soothing to have him here, where Seth can watch over him, and not halfway across the city dancing with Timothée Chalagay. An irrational part of Seth doesn’t want to sleep, wants to hold him close and protect him from the world, protect him from himself. For now, all he can do is hold Stefon’s hand, an anchor point in the dark. A silent promise. He falls asleep like that.

Seth typically sleeps in after a show, so it’s not unusual for him to wake up around noon. As Seth is debating the pros and cons of getting up and starting his day, Stefon stirs.

“Good morning.”

Stefon scrunches his face and reaches for the bottle of aspirin he’s kept on his nightstand as long as Seth has known him. He swallows the pill dry before dramatically flinging his arm over his eyes. “I’ve had better.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Not great.”

“Are you going to throw up?”

Stefon considers this for a second, tilting his head to the side. “No. Probably not.”

“You should probably eat something.”  

Stefon groans. “Not hungry.” He peeks out from under his arm, apparently displeased Seth’s on the other side of the bed. “C’mere.” Seth scoots over and Stefon buries his face in Seth’s shoulder, wrapping himself around him until there’s virtually no more space between them. Seth strokes his tangled hair, trying to pick apart the knots with his fingers. If it weren’t for last night, Seth wouldn’t have thought twice about the silence, but as it is Stefon’s mood is far more disconcerting than his usual flamboyant personality. They haven’t lived together long, so maybe this is just a part of Stefon.

But still, Seth has to ask, “Do you want to talk about what happened last night? I didn’t mind picking you up, but you seemed… upset.”

Stefon fists a handful of Seth’s shirt. “Bad trip.”

“Okay.” Seth has a feeling there’s something more here, but if Stefon doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t force him.

“I don’t want…” Stefon trails off, his voice muffled. “I don’t want to be like this.”

A pulse of anxiety takes root in Seth’s stomach. “Like what?”

“Like _this_ , Seth. Like… a mess. I like going out, but in the morning I feel so… shitty, you know?”

“Then why—”

“I don’t _know_!” Stefon snaps, pushing himself away from Seth. He covers his face in an unnerving facsimile of his usual gesture. “I don’t know why I’m like this, I’m just so tired… I wanna get better, Seth. I really do, but I don’t know how and it’s so hard…”

Seth rubs Stefon’s back as he sobs, wishing he could do more. Stefon deserves to be happy, and knowing he’d had this anguish all this time while Seth hadn’t known… hurts. All the sentences he can string together sound weak, full of platitudes. He finally settles on the only truth he’s one hundred percent sure of. “Whatever you want to do: therapy, rehab, medication, whatever, I’ll support you, okay? I’m here for you, no matter what.” He kisses the top of Stefon’s head. “I love you.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This feels like the beginning of a series to me. I don't know where the storyline would go yet, but if you'd be interested in reading more, let me know. :) I'm coming a little late in the game to this pairing, and I'd love to chat about them on [tumblr](https://jbird181.tumblr.com/). Hit me up.


End file.
